


Cocaine and Abel

by WalnootMelk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Depression, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalnootMelk/pseuds/WalnootMelk
Summary: A sad story about a man who holds in his feelings.Abel, Name, Meaning: Breath, vapour, or son, biblical originbased off the song Cocaine and Abel by Amigo the Devil
Kudos: 4





	Cocaine and Abel

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the song Cocaine and Abel by Amigo the Devil, I would advise listening to the song here while reading > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzjtLm0G49E&ab_channel=AmigoTheDevil

Smoke rose in the air, passing by time in a whisp of discontent. The flick of his cigarette tossed ashes into the cold autumn air the orange light brimming once again to life as the filter was brought back to chapped and quivering lips as memories poured and brimmed back into the cup of reality. Abel’s memories haunted him, pressed firmly against the door he had closed and locked up so tightly.

__

_ -But I was born impatient- _

But sometimes they got through,

__

_ \- And I was born unkind - _

Sometimes they were cruel,

__

_ \- But I refuse to believe I have to be the same person I was born when I die- _

But he knew that it was the past,

__

_ -'Cause change is alright- _

And sometimes it was too late to say “I’m sorry”.

__

_ -Change is alright- _

His eyes were warming with a feeling he couldn’t place, his ears burned lightly at the edges, reddening as the sky grew grey above him, the air chilled more, it was going to rain again. It caused him to press his cigarette into the concrete he sat upon, watching the orange light burn out, black ash crushing into the stone-like material. He took the unlit cigarette in hand, pressing his thumb now into the blacked area, sweeping it across to try and disperse it. His breath grew opaque in the air from the chill, the black smudge never moved. Standing, his eyes never moved away from the spot, instead they pierced into the area before the glimpse of a car passed him and he began to walk.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he needed to be somewhere. He flicked the dead cigarette into a trashcan he walked by, thinking of the unacknowledged usefulness of it.

He let his legs move on their own, turning to a sudden realization of how numb he felt at this moment. His eyes trailed to the side, looking into the dark waters of the canal, he crossed the street without thinking, no cars were on the road. He could now see himself in the reflections of the water, it was misshaped and moved with the current, it looked nothing like him, or rather, what he believed he looked like. But somehow, it made more sense to him, than looking into a true mirror. His palms pressed against the rough rust of an old railing as he leaned forward, the side of his eyes catching a glimpse of an old man staring with concern in his direction. Abel stood tall and let his legs, which shivered with their first steps, keep walking. He wished for some colour, the trees leave had already fallen, but left the landscape dark and grey.

Memories slipped through the cracks, and his eyes warmed once more, water brimming at the edges of his eyed. He pulled his scarf up to his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as he walked. The smell of it was fused with tobacco and the sweet scent of the last person he let wear it. He felt so undeserving of it all. 

A drip of cold had come to hit his cheek from above, dripping down his face into the fabric of his scarf. A couple more hit against him, he could feel the light drizzle, before it rained over him, the liquid turning his khaki coloured jacket into something darker and more muted. His hair began to feel heavy on his head, the wax from the products he used dying down from the weight of the water. He gave himself permission to let a couple tears fall down from his eyes, feeling a deep release from his memories. 

__

_ -I'm not proud of all the choices I've made for a lot of my life. Following the shadow when I  _

__

_ damn well know that behind me is the light- _

The door opened,

__

_ -But I've lied to my mother- _

The tears fell more,

__

_ -I made people feel like hell- _

And Abel didn’t know where he was going.

__

_ -But I refuse to believe I have to keep being cruel  _

__

_ 'cause I'm a coward myself- _

It was moments like these when Abel realized he never loved himself as much as he could have. He would come to realize he tried to love others more around him than he did himself, and from his perspective that didn’t mean much.

Because you can only love other people as much as you love yourself. And that’s what he believed.

He let his head hang a little as his feet led him down another road, an ally, a park until they stopped in front of a statue in the northeast of Den Haag. His eyes, though dusted with regrets and self-loathing looked into the face of the iron with shaggy green coloured rusted statue. Tears slipping down the edged of his cheek, piling back under his ears.

__

_ -But the blood in the water- _

__

__ What was he doing,

__

_ -Is the blood of my brother- _

Where was he going in his life,

_ -We both learned it didn't mean a thing in the end if one was thicker than the other- _

Would he ever be forgiven,

__

_ \- And I've tried having faith- _

And could he forgive himself?

_ -But I’ll rot like a dog- _

He couldn’t help his eyes trailing over the written scripture of the statue, his fallen friend, someone who he cherished in his heart. Someone who he can picture in his arms, dying, as he wished his life to serve his people, his country. And yet Abel was here, still here, eternally here without any release. Any promised heaven or hell was snatch from him. And at this point, he would prefer either.

_ -'Cause I've always been scared  _

__

_ of loving someone just a little bit more than I'm loved- _

He could feel the hard stone on his knees as he dropped, turning to sit below the statue. He pressed his back against it, noticing that now his clothes were fully soaked. He let out a laugh, rubbing at his eyes before looking up at the statue, “What do you think of me now, old friend.” His voice was that of a choked mutter as he let his head rest on the statue behind him, “am I doing enough?”

_ -Losing is fine- _   
  
Seeing people start to notice him he took in a deep breath. Pulling his emotions all into himself once more. He wouldn’t let more people see him in this light. He got up from where he sat and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands before taking a couple deep breaths, returning his feature back to how people usually saw him. He looked back up at the statue of Willem van Oranje, giving him a node, before walking off, back home.  
  
 _-Everything is fine.-_


End file.
